Friday, 27 April 2012

An Apiary is for Bees, dear, not Apes

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex

Inner Hamlet

CORSETTSHIRE QY4 2PN

My Dear Ralph

Well I didn't like to mention it dear, but the summons to the Council Rent Office was to account for the sudden and excessive spending on my savings account. In short, they wanted to know what I'd spent £100 000 on during the past several months. Well, what could I say? More-or-less at gun point, Pom-Pom did finally confess to siphoning off funds in order to satisfy his habit with the horses! But he sobbed so abjectly - on bended knee - when I threatened to move myself and the menagerie out, that I took pity on the poor dear and we are now quite reconciled!

I am only 62 pet! My years may be 'advancing' but they have not yet advanced! An apiary is for keeping bees in dear, not apes. One wears one of those hooded outfits which are, apparently, impenetrable to stings. There is absolutely no need to worry; my years in the field have girded me for all types of challenge!

Meanwhile, Pom-Pom and I attended Hymn singing here last night. I sat next to Mr Brownie, while Mrs Brownie applied herself to the keyboard. Personally, I am not all that taken with hymns; they have a somewhat dirge-like rhythm and seem altogether too focused on impending death. However, Gospel and Boyo (who were also in attendance) sang with gusto, apparently undeterred by the clanking of the keys at the upper end of the register. We had a go at 'What a Friend we Have in Jesus' and other favourites that you may be familiar with? We had a short interval during which the Bird Feeder announced that next time (next time?) she would bring her maracas and Mr Brownie and I thought that clapping the lids open and shut on metal teapots from the kitchen could also add a certain je ne sais quoi to the ﻿occasion. Actually dear, it reminded me of that occasion just after we'd moved in, when I was foolish enough to suggest to the Social Committee that they purchase one or two tambourines from the social funds. Of course, Gerda (the secretary) took great delight in telling me at Coffee Morning one day, that my idea had been voted against by five votes to Zero! Imagine! It was at this point, or shortly after, that I realized the 'suggestions' were inadvisable, and I joined the ranks of the others, who either have no ideas at all, or have the sense to say nothing!What news from your job with the Government favourite nephew?Yours Aunt Agatha

About Me

This is a humour genre blog! 'The Pom-Pom letters: Memoirs from Alternative Accommodation.
The letters are written in the persona of Aunt Agatha - a retired MI6 operative - who is resident in a block of 56 flats for the elderly in a rural area of the UK. The year is 1996. The flats are staffed by a resident manager and his deputy. Aunt Agatha is close friends with another resident - Pom-Pom - and is carrying on a correspondence with her nephew Ralph, who is a member of a 'far left' political group and addicted to prescription medication.
Agatha's letters to Ralph form a commentary on events occurring inside the Perfect Retirement Housing Complex and, later upon her 'escape' - they describe her life from the relative safety of Forsythia Grove.